Wee shoppe o' Horrors
by Monochrome666
Summary: A story which I wrote for a competition a while ago. It isn't based on the movie 'the small shop of horrors' - I just felt like calling it that since, well, you will have to read it to find out. Beware of dolls! XD


Wee shoppe o' horrors

As I tiptoed, closer and closer, I realised that my thoughts about this place being of interest had all been made up in my mind. All of that was there were the rotting corpses of long forgotten boxes, which looked at least forty, maybe fifty years old.

I tried to keep the saying in my mind: 'Curiosity killed the cat, curiosity killed the cat...' but all I could think about was what was in those boxes.

I noticed that I was now so close to them that the smell of decay wafted in front of my face, making my nose itch. Against all sensible judgement or thought, I leapt across the room like a cat on a mouse, landing flat on my feet and lifting the box towards me.

The odour smacked me in the face, making my eyes water; although it was so awful, I tried to read the writing anyway. The writing was so scrawny, so messy, that I let slip the idea that this box could have any worth, inside or out.

With a sigh of discontent, I placed the box back before I heard something. I froze, swivelled my head round to see a cat (a tabby by the looks of it) playing around in the boxes. The cat grinded to a halt as it saw me and with a scared hiss, bounded out the room, knocking into the boxes as it went. The boxes swayed violently like a high wire acrobat, before falling over board and crashed to the floor.

Oh no, I thought with a groan as I strided over and slumped over the boxes, what happens if someone finds this? Lord knows!

As I heaved the boxes over, the one in my hand tore and all the contents scattered over the floor with a loud clatter. It took me a few seconds before I felt like chucking all of the boxes out of the window; why did I come here, why am I so stupid?

As I flung the empty box into the corner, I was struck by a horror worse than I had feared. A dozen china dolls lay broken or dishevelled across the stone floor, the eyes all upon me. A few wore frilly dresses, some wore spotty night gowns; but all absolutely horrible.

One stood out though, which was like a nightmare come to life. To the right, under a huge doll broken in half, the smiley face of a worn china clown doll stared blankly up at me, making me quiver in my boots. It wore a tattered frilly outfit, with stained rainbow colours etched along; nothing too extravagant. On top was a lice infested party hat, drooped to one side with medusa hair poking underneath.

Suddenly, the clown head tipped towards me, making my heart skip a beat. I couldn't bear it any longer; I let out an ear piercing shriek and darted behind the wall, wobbling uncontrollably. I knelt there for a few minutes, taking small rasping breaths, listening hard for any movement, when there wasn't any; I took a peak round the corner. Nothing had changed.

Where was this lady that had written to me? I needed to find her, before anything bad happened. Now feeling ready to leave, I turned back to the door.

In front of me was the clown levitated in the air by invisible strings, smiling ear to ear. I blanked out for a few seconds before screaming blue murder. I dashed to the door, the only way out of this hell. More dolls appeared, cackling like hags before me.

"You can't leave, you can't leave," the choir of dolls chanted as I barged my way to the stairs. Before I could catch my breath, knives were being thrown at me from all directions, narrowly missing me. My head was ringing with the sound of bitter laughter and each time I looked back I saw the clown on my tail, knife raised.

I yanked at the first door I could see, flung myself in and quickly barricaded the door. I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts. How was this happening? I must be going insane or the dolls were possessed, somehow. Oh great, I'm being chased by homicidal lunatic dolls with knives, I thought with immortal dread.

While I was thinking about how to escape, a blast of a gunshot pierced through the door, only just missing my head. With two more ear deafening bangs, the door swung open with the clown cackling behind, holding an old shotgun.

Oh man, why me?

I threw a book at the puppet, missing terribly and making matters worse. Without any logical thinking, I rushed across the room and grabbed the clown. The clown dropped the gun, gnashed its teeth and clawed viciously at my hands, making me wince.

"Die you ugly piece of china," I yelled as I rammed it into the door, "Die! Die! Die!"

The doll finally cracked and lay limp in my hands, oozy black liquid dribbling from the gap. I lay on the floor, panting, cursing the doll a hundred times over. Oh how good it was for it to be over.

"Look over here!" a voice squeaked somewhere to my left; I had to look. A doll was holding a match while others were gathered holding various fireworks, smiles pasted on their faces.

Oh for the love of the wee man, hadn't I suffered enough?

I thought about running to the stairs but it would be too late; I would be ash by then. I cocked my head to the right to see a dirty glass window; my only escape. I skidded across the floor and chucked myself out of the window into the world outside.

I felt weightless, like I was peter pan, before hurtling back to earth and landing flat on my face in a puddle.

As I slumpt towards my car, an ancient red BMW, the house blew up behind me, flourishing into life and light before my eyes. The wiz of fireworks could be heard, the crackling of flames roaring into the night and the sizzling of electrical wires melting under the heat.

Stupid dolls, I thought to myself, they didn't even think about the electrical appliances or gas burners which would explode or set up a reaction; serves them right and lets hope they don't bother me again.

I turned to see that the street seemed vaguely normal, with the lamps shining bright in the night, like stars on earth; and the street completely empty. All the shops were closed and no one stirred anywhere.

I feel that I should search tomorrow when everyone is awake, I thought as I yanked the door open. I noticed a sign with a clown holding it straight up, pointing down the road to the left. The writing was a little rushed but still readable:

Turn left of Penbure; keep going straight for 2 miles to reach the town of Mullton

I liked the thought of civilization other than possessed dolls and eerie silence, so I put my car into gear and turned left down the road. The rain appeared in a sudden sheet of water, smacking against the screen and flooding the window. I tried to look for any sign of life, any light in the distance to reassure me that I was not alone. I nearly spiralled out of control as I turned the corner, only narrowly missing a nearby tree.

As I cursed like a sailor, I didn't notice that I was not alone at all.

"Hello Miss, like some directions?" something asked beside me. I cocked my head to the side to see a clown; it looked like an exact replica of the one holding the sign; had I thought about it I would have noticed how strange of a coincidence that was, now I was doomed.

"Oh why today..." I croaked, hitting my head against my hand, hoping it would bring me back to reality.

"Well, there is a cemetery up ahead and," the clown paused for dramatic effect, "I've even got your grave ready for you!"

The clown let out a high shriek that sent a chill straight down my spine, making me step hard on the brakes, screech to a halt and lurch back. I clambered out, sprinting away, anywhere but back.

Without glancing back, I shot down the road, stones scattering everywhere as I raced along. I came to a sudden halt outside massive iron gates, towering upwards above my head. It stood out in the still forest, gleaming in the light of the full moon; the wind blew gently in the breeze, making the gates groan in and out like an old pair of lungs.

A sign caught my eye, on the right hand side and covered in a thick layer of grime. I whisked out my handkerchief before scrubbing frantically at the metal plaque, eventually finding words embedded in the worn out piece of metal. Before reading I looked at my handkerchief, now unrecognisable due to the large amount of dirt smeared across it. As I threw it away, I turned back to the sign, now more clearly visible:

Redemption cemetery

Made in 1872,

May the angels watch over your loved ones.

Why would you send your loved ones here in the middle of nowhere, I thought with a feeling of curiosity. Before I had noticed, I was pushing the gate open, creaking with the strain of weathering and lack of oil. When the gate was finally wedged as far as it could go, I remembered that curiosity was what got me into this predicament in the first place but, well; it was better than facing the possessed mannequin.

As I slithered through the gap, I noticed that the cemetery was much bigger than I had expected. The graves were worn away from the weather, all covered in wild life and aligned in a neat row along the sandy pathway, leading into the darkness of the shadows.

As I sneaked quietly along, trying not to break the unbearable silence, I tried to see if there was any shelter or living animals around. When I finally reached the middle of the cross roads, I saw a fountain rising high into the sky, nearly reaching the stars etched into the cloth of the night above.

The fountain must have been beautiful in its time, dazzling all who passed; but now it was broken and dishevelled. It was made of white marble with two angels holding a jug, which I presumed was supposed to let running water out.

The water looked clean enough, I thought as I walked forward to the side of the fountain, looking down into its depths. It was quite clear, with a few green plants shimmering in the water and I still couldn't see the bottom. Suddenly, something came into focus, staring straight into my face making me jump back and clatter to the floor. The clown emerged, standing soaked to the core, the smile spreading wider as it started to trod closer to me.

I scrambled up onto my feet, looking back to the gate, too far for me to make a quick dash. What am I to do, I kept thinking in my head as I was started to lose my calm.

"Oh come on, I even dug you a grave," the clown moaned pointed at the square hole dug a few steps away, "can't you just appreciate the effort and die already."

That was the final straw of my sanity lost and I didn't care what measures I had to use to survive, I just wanted this nightmare to end.

I turned swiftly and charged down the lane, not looking away from the gate in fear of slowing down. The gate seemed to be so close, so near before the clown sprouted from the ground. I fell back, fear routing me to the spot, unable to move.

"You really should stop trying to run, it is completely futile," the clown sighed, with a lash of its green tongue.

"Who are you?" I shrieked, crawling away slowly.

"Oh Detective Jeanne, You don't even recognise me?" he asked in a childish voice. I sat upright to take a better look at the being, trying not to run for the hills. A mark was visible on his head, drawn on by him which made me remember.

"Wayne the Woman snatcher? That can't be even possible... You're dead!" I commented with a feeling of confusing and utter disbelief. The clown smiled darkly clapping his hands together.

"Well done! I am so happy you remembered; I know I don't look the same but I do love this form!" he laughed freakishly, pulling out a shovel from his back. "I had to find something to scare you whit less, so I decided puppet dolls and clowns together, isn't that genius?"

"If I do recall, you did that to all your victims, made their own nightmares come to life," I answered angrily, "all 12 of them."

"Wow, you have a memory like a book," the clown put a hand to its mouth mockingly; "I did always like you, even when you turned me in."

The clown put a hand on my chin, squeezing gently with his face close. Suddenly I realised with horror how this had happened.

"You were the one who sent me that letter," I hissed viciously, "I should have noticed by the town being deserted that I was being conned."

"Well my dear, I would love to chat," the clown sneered with content, thrusting me back and swung his shovel in front of me, "Sadly, it is time for you to die!"

He raised his shovel up for the hit, to knock me out and bury me alive. Wayne let out a last cackle, piercing the silence before swinging the shovel at me.

So this was the end?

Suddenly, from nowhere, the lights of my saviour appeared from the darkness, the bonnet of the police car sending the clown sky high and skewered on a broken lamp post. A policeman appeared in front of my eyes with a torch, making my heart leap.

"I saw a car on the road, so came to investigate," the policeman explained, "May I ask why you are digging?"

I stared dumbfounded at him; then looked at the shovel on the ground and the hole close to me. Didn't he see the clown that he hit or care about the gate he crashed into? When I didn't answer, the policeman muttered to himself before grabbing me and pulling me to my feet.

"You have a lot of explaining to do." He snapped as he dragged me to the car. A smile of relief spread across my face.

Thank God for the police.


End file.
